


Home to You

by languageismymistress



Series: When things go boo [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Haunted House, Killer Frost appearance, ghost story, mentions of Leonard and Lisa Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/languageismymistress/pseuds/languageismymistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlin woke to tell Mick there was an intruder in the house</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home to You

The home that was belonged to him was nothing but an empty shell. Walls that were lined with photos and love were bare, only showing the one mirror that would reflect the hollow person that Mick had become. Two years had passed and all that had changed was the decrepit state that he lived in each day. Nothing could bring warmth to his cold heart, not the sound of his friends talking nor the company that they did once try to share. All that he was, was the shell that echoed the house that he lived in. 

 

Caitlin had given his home and heart new energy and life to live. Her essence was all that was good and pure in the world. Mick had thought that being near her would taint her, making her more like him than him like her. He was so grateful that the latter occurred, each day waking with her in his arms gave him more warmth that matched her smile. Each day she would tend to the wounded and sick at the clinic by the lake, Mick often dropping in on her lunch break to eat and talk before both heading back to work. 

 

They were married one year and seven months after meeting at a charity even held by the Snart Foundation. Mick was tending for Len’s sake and Caitlin was there as an interested party. The Foundation was for shelters around the area for abused wives and/or children. A thing that Len and his sister were heavily involved in due to what Mick knew of their own upbringing. Lisa had introduced the pair and they got on close enough to straight away. Micks own heart sizzling each time she smiled near his direction, a feeling that hadn’t risen in him in a long time. 

 

She looked as though she had stepped out of one of those magazines that she used to read. Her hair done nicely and her dress suiting her beautifully, he knew that he was a lucky one, never wanting to question that in fear of having her taken away from him. Didn’t really matter in the end, either way or whatever happened, she was still gone from his arms. No laughter echoing through the hallway, no stern glares when he got into trouble more often than usual. No more of the smell of the best apple pie that his mouth has ever tasted. 

 

Just him, dirt and the mirror to show him what he was slowly becoming, each and every day, more and more dying inside. Maybe it was an attempt to be with her once more, to anger her spirit into coming to yell at him for not looking after himself. He didn’t care, he was alive and she wasn’t. The world wasn’t fair and this was the proof. 

 

His shifts down at the old warehouse by the wharf ran later each day, it was the only thing that was keeping his mind occupied instead of dwelling on the past. It was unhealthy, painful and far too raw for him still. Even after talking to therapists and shrinks, nothing seemed to stick, his mind kept on replaying that day, seeing what it was that he could have done differently, each answer the same, nothing. 

 

She was a protector and a fighter, his Cait, never giving up even with her final breath. He still remembers that damn shot ringing through his ears watching Caitlin as she fell to the ground clutching her stomach. The man who was in the house running, Mick was torn between going after him and staying with her, Caitlin won out, always did. Blood soaked over his hands, he had tried to damn best to add pressure, stop bleeding, call for the ambulance, all of it a waste as her skin turned cold to touch, like frost. 

 

He barely noticed his surroundings, it was all familiar and never changing. From work to home, fire gear to comfort clothes, TV on, beer in hand, food in stomach, sleep. Routine to follow that doesn’t require thinking, all just basic movements to get through each day. His head hit the pillow and it was lights out for him.

 

He dreamt of her again, always of her, the same dream over and over again. That night playing out in all different ways, her dying each and every time. This was different. She looked distraught, worried with tears wanting to leak from her eyes. Her clothes were torn and dirty, covered in mud that she never would venture near. Her mouth worded something that his mind was trying to make out, three words, each getting clearer on the repeat. 

 

In –der  
d-n  
s-rs

 

Intrder  
Don  
Strs

 

Intruder – Down – Stairs. 

 

Mick woke with a gasps and a bang coming from the living room. His eyes gazing to the clock, 0049 hrs. His breath nearly froze in front of him, chills creeping along his back. The night air was never this cold, not like this in a long time. Not since that night. He listened to the sounds that echoed through the hall and into the room. His heart close to beating out of his chest, trying to break free of the cage that it was contained in. 

 

He had no weapon by the bed nor time to see what the commotion was about, the creek of the door froze him in the bed. Her face was the same but so different, pale like the night she left him, lips blue as the clothes that she wore, eyes near glowing in the night. She was still her breath-taking self though there was an allure about her that made his skin crawl, crackle almost. 

 

Her words were silent when they reached his ears, her hands like frost on his skin as she coaxed him back into the bed. Lips were sheets of ice on his, cracking both as he watched steam rise between them. His body hotter under the blankets, sweat pouring over him and under. She was whispering words that once meant something to them, now were bitter, twisted and cold. Her eyes glowing, hand reaching towards him, a puff of icy mist traced over his chest. 

 

She once held his heart in her hand, mending it slowly to a matching beat. Now, she held it with anger and spit, icing it over as he watched her smirk down at him.


End file.
